


In An Awful Fix

by Selkie_de_Suzie



Series: Strange Hearts & Wild Things [12]
Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Afterglow, Awkward Family Moments, Awkward Sexual Situations, Fluff, Humor, Lust Stricken Nerds, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, butterfly bog, sexual escapades
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:11:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5281556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selkie_de_Suzie/pseuds/Selkie_de_Suzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Once you get it/You’re in an awful fix/‘Cause after you’ve had it/Ya never wanna quit…”</p><p>Marianne and Bog can’t help themselves. Both of their Kingdoms pay.</p><p>Part 12 of my "Strange Hearts & Wild Things" series!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Goblins

**Author's Note:**

> For the sake of clarification, I was very very very hesitant to give this fanfic the title I wanted, due to it being so similar to Rosewaterwitch‘s incomparable “An Awful Fix.” 
> 
> But then the lovely lady contacted me and told me it was okay if I used the title I wanted, so I was able to breath a bit easier. Though I still stand by the fact that this fanfic could have easily been called “Bog And Marianne Finally Did The Deed And Now They Can’t Stop Going At It And Everyone Is Paying The Price.” 
> 
> Those lusty *nerds*.

**Chapter One: The Goblins**

It wasn’t fear that made Stuff and Thang’s eyes watch their King with such wariness. There was no need to cower or flinch at any snarls or icy glowers, duck back from any looming threats or claws clenched in dangerous frustration. 

But…that was just it. Stuff furrowed her brow, and Thang squinted in bewilderment. Their King was… _content_. 

There was no lurking frustration or any simmer of tension in the line of his scaly body, no threat of a snarl on his lips. In fact, there was the impossible hint of a smile as he read over the papers before him, documents from the Fairy Kingdom, one that seemed to grow as his eyes jumped from word to word.

Such a sight was…rare. In fact, if one were to be so bold, there was the possibility that the dour and dark King was actually in a –

_“Don’t you dare,”_  muttered Stuff, low with warning as she sent a stern glare at her cohort.

Thang recoiled in offended bewilderment. “ _What?_  You  _know_ we don’t get to see him in a good mood –“

_“Don’t jinx it!”_  Stuff hissed. “Besides, that’s not true, you know he gets into them when Princess Marianne is around –“

“But then  _she’s_ the one who sees them, not us!” Thang bit at his lip in thought. “And that’s another thing – she’s not here  _now_. She hasn’t been here for a while, and usually that makes him even more…” Thang stopped and shrugged, wriggling helplessly over how to phrase his thoughts.

“-More  _His Majesty_  than usual,” supplied Bloodwart, sidling closer to also watch his King with wary eyes.

The rest of the goblins gave soft grumbles of agreement. It was now generally accepted throughout the Kingdom that their ruler’s moods had different variations to them that were actually quite distinguishable if one knew the signs. Glowers and glares and biting commands were common to the point of being inconsequential, and fell under  _Sire._  Looming and snarls and neck cracking all spoke of simmering frustration that held a strong potential for danger and belonged to  _His Majesty_.

However, shouting, a noticeably thicker accent, and sudden singing of songs that contained phrases such as  _“I’m evil”, “My middle name is misery,”_  and  _“Thang I swear to gods if you don’t bloody shut your mouth I will shut it for you”_ were reserved for  _The Bog King_  and were to be avoided at all costs.

(There was another category, known simply as  _Boggy Woggy Kingy Wingy_ , but they did not speak of it. Mucus had once, and now they did not speak of Mucus.)

There had been some very quiet talk of discreetly distributing a pamphlet that would help subjects identify such signals, but then the pressing need for such a thing had become less and less pressing ever since their King had begun keeping the company of a certain feisty Fairy Princess.

But Thang had a point – they hadn’t seen the Princess in a while now, and such a thing had the power of making their King slid into the blackest of moods, one that the goblins feared to even name. But now…

There was the unmistakable sound of a low chuckle from the throne, so quiet it verged on an exhale.

A deep ripple of unease slithered through the mass of goblins, and Stuff and Thang blanched with shock and exchanged wide eyed looks as the Bog King settled back further into his throne, his grin now one-sided and blatant as he continued to read.  “Should we laugh too?” whispered Thang, looking hunted.

Stuff shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.”

Thang gnawed in his lip, wringing his hands. “Do…do you think he might be sick?”

Muggon, who had joined them, rolled his eyes. “He wouldn’t  _smile_ if he was sick!”

“Maybe it isn’t a smile! Maybe it’s a… _grimace?”_

_“A grimace?”_

“…A cheerful one?”

“Sire doesn’t  _do_ cheerful –“

“Well, if he’s laughing –“

“Maybe his mouth has just stopped working -”

“But my hearing works just fine,” said a dry voice, verging on a growl as it cut through the franticly hissed exchange. The goblins jumped as one as Bog set the documents aside, his smile gone and his brow lowering. “And if I have to listen to any more inane chatter from you lot, I know of some cages that are always ready for some guests.”

His subjects nodded frantically, their relief at the return of such familiar threats vast and well hidden.

Giving them one last stern look, Bog cracked his neck and groaned before leaning forward. “The meeting shall commence. Reports from scouting first.”

Marrow and Bloodwart stepped forward. “There’s a new ring of mushrooms that’s cropped up along the Border, your majesty, on the eastern side. Most seem content to join the Watch, but it seems some have expressed curiosity over edging to the Fields –“

“We tried to tell them that their presence wouldn’t be welcomed there –“

“That may change soon. There’s been talk of establishing a Watch over there as well. But until then, I won’t have them disobeying my commands.” Bog leaned back with a sigh, a furrow already forming on his brow. “What news from the Marsh Lands?”

Stuff sighed, rolling her eyes. “The rumor of the snapping turtle was just that, a rumor. But now we’re getting reports of possible viper tracks –“

Marrow shrugged carelessly. “Get together a crew and hunt down the beast.”

“But we don’t know if there even is a beast!” Fleasley lisped earnestly. “It might be another snake, one that isn’t venomous –“

“It might be another bid from the towns there to justify their demands for more guards –“

“Can you blame them? The Marsh Lands have always been dangerous –“

“No more so than the rest of the Forest,” Bog said, his claws drumming against the arm of his throne, his eyes narrowed. “The goblins there should be well aware that we cannot post watch guards there on rumor alone –“

Boil snorted contemptuously. “Marsh Landers have always been paranoid –“

Muggon bared his fangs at him in offended fury. “Watch how you talk about goblins from my part of the Forest, you sad sack of scales!”

“If you are determined to have a fight, than spar on your own time,” Bog barked, looking thoroughly peeved, all traces of his good mood gone. “I won’t have a brawl in the Throne Room –“

“That’s a bit rich, coming from you,” said a sly voice.

The goblins would have gasped at such blatant mockery if Bog hadn’t immediately straightened up, his eyes brightening and his smile back.  _“Marianne!”_

“I mean, considering that we fought to a stand still in your old one,” the Fairy continued, fluttering over to the throne and making her way up the steps to him.

“Doesn’t count,” Bog countered, snagging her hand as she drew close to him, bright blue eyes gazing up at her as warm amber regarded him with deep affection. “You attacked me, I was merely defending myself.” He then pressed a kiss to her wrist, making her giggle and the goblins gape. Sire was normally  _never_ so blatant with such displays -!

If either Bog or Marianne noticed such shock, they didn’t show it as they continued to gaze at each other, smiles curling at their lips and eyes soft. A rough thumb brushed over the pulse of one thin wrist, and his voice matched the gentleness of the gesture. “I thought you had to prepare the last arrangements for your coronation –“

“Two weeks still gives me plenty of time,” Marianne rolled her eyes, even as her fingers twined with his and she settled herself on the arm of his throne. Stuff and Thang were used to such casualness, but some of the less hardened goblins gave surprised murmurs and mutters.

Marianne looked up at that and bit her lip rather guilty. “I…I just wanted to, um,  _hang out_  for a bit, but if you’re busy – I can come back –“

“Please don’t,” Bog said quickly, then flushed as the goblins stared at him, thunderstruck over at such a plaintive entreaty from their King. “I mean – you needn’t. The meeting is just to gather reports –“

Stuff cleared her throat as respectfully as she could. “Would Sire like us to continue so that we may finish as quickly as possible?”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Marianne said quickly, sliding off the throne and stepping back a few paces. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from such an important task – “

“It’s not  _that_  important…” Bog muttered, watching her retreat with marked displeasure.

“I’m still here,” Marianne said, more soothing than dismissive. She then arched a brow at him as she leaned against a wall. “Although if I’m gonna distract you –“

“You won’t,” Bog said a touch quickly. His voice got softer. “You can stay…”   

Marianne gave him a soft smile and then quickly gave a brighter one to the goblins, who were still staring up at the two of them, owl-eyed. “Okay…just…over  _here_ …”

She fiddled with her hair, obviously not sure what to do with herself. Her eyes darted around before they brightened as they fell on the documents that Bog had been pouring over earlier. She quickly snatched them up, studying them before giving a snort. “This report from the Fairy Kingdom isn’t even recent –“ she blinked, surprised. “Wait a second…did  _I_ write this one?”

Bog scratched at his neck, looking a bit flushed. “You…might have…”

Marianne looked at him, befuddled. “Then why read it? There’s nothing to be gained from it, just me being my old snarky self-“

Her voice abruptly stopped as her eyes widened. Then a bright blush stole over her cheeks and she bit her lips to stop her blossoming smile.  _“You freaking dork.”_

Her obvious delight had another smile crawling across Bog’s lips before he noticed the goblins watching their exchange with perplexed furrows to their brows. He quickly cleared his throat and then waved a claw at them, his expression somewhere between embarrassed and resigned. “Continue the reports.”

Muggon immediately took the floor, narrowing still baleful eyes at Boil. “We needn’t have an entire battalion at the Marsh, just enough guards to keep an eye on things. We don’t need another massacre like with that rat snake –“

“Guards will have to be housed and fed,” Fleasley piped up quickly. “Marsh goblins already have limited crops, any more demands for supplying food would be a strain on them –“

“Which would be adding insult to injury if the threat of the viper is real,” Moldia agreed, scratching her scales thoughtfully. “We can’t have them say that they’re there to protect only to claim homes and clean them out. Perhaps a food line could be established?”

“That would cut into our supplies for Winter!”

“And we haven’t even decided if the guards should be posted there or not!”

_“Of course we have!”_

The room fell into a turmoil of angry growls and argumentative snarls, and Stuff couldn’t keep her hard sigh of exasperation to herself, rolling her eyes. If only some of the goblins had her knack at professionalism. They weren’t going to accomplish  _anything_  at this rate, and BK was only going to grow more and more impatient, which would lead to one of his moods -

She shook her head disapprovingly, rolling her eyes once more. They were halfway through their journey when they happened to fall on the throne, where they then abruptly stopped and widened.

Indeed, there  _might_  have been some danger of the Bog King getting even angrier – if he had been paying any attention at all to the squabble in front of his throne.

Instead, his eyes were unabashedly fixed on Marianne.

The sheer heat in his gaze would have made anyone blush and look away. Even Stuff, hardened professional that she was, felt her cheeks get a bit warm as she watched her King and his Lady, all too aware that she shouldn’t.

But she couldn’t help hoping that the discord of her cohorts would continue on, masking her blatant spying, what with her frank curiosity over such a scene before her…

Usually it was one of her aims to keep moments between the Bog King and Princess Marianne private and uninterrupted, despite Thang’s oblivious helpfulness. As such, Stuff had never seen her King like  _this_ …

Bog still leaned forward on the throne, hunched over as he was wont to do, but he kept glancing aside at where Marianne stood, leaning against the wall as she read over her old report, a smile toying at her lips, her wings rustling faintly. One claw curled into a fist under his sharp chin, but the other fitfully scratched at the arm of the throne, marring the bone with faint, white marks. He tried the odd attempt of watching the goblins argue, yet…

Slowly but surely, his eyes would inevitably slide over to  _her_ , the blue of them both intense and tender… 

Marianne continued to read the report, but suddenly looked up, her warrior instincts undoubtedly informing her that someone was watching her. Her large eyes scanned the room before reaching Bog, who met her gaze with an odd mix of candor and shyness, an unmistakable yearning to his gaze.

Already shocked by such a sight, Stuff blinked stunned eyes as the fierce, feisty Fairy blushed pink as primroses before looking back down at the old parchment, a smitten smile fighting across her stained lips.

Bog shifted in his seat a bit, switching the arm on which he was leaning so that he could watch Marianne more closely, taking in the blush on her cheeks and how she was biting her lip to stop the spread of her smile. His own mouth quirked in a one-sided smirk, which soon deepened as she glanced back at him, the hazel of her eyes glowing gold against the darkness she painted them up with.

Marianne then crossed her arms and looked to the goblins, a determined set to her chin. Stuff thought the stance looked quite steadfast and regal, but the effect of it was getting ruined what with how the Princess’s eyes continually flicked back to the Bog King, who was –

Stuff almost blanched again, and this time she did avert her eyes, reeling over the sheer  _hunger_ in her King’s gaze.  _Good gods._

She dared a quick peek and immediately knew she should look away again, but instead could only dumbly watch as Marianne casually shifted her body against the wall, arching her back in a smooth curve and rolling her neck so that the slim, pale line of her long neck was brought to attention. 

Bog was similarly unable to look away, though Stuff was willing to bet that her expression wasn’t so…well, like  _that_. A slow something was curling across his mouth, an expression that Stuff would have called a smile if it hadn’t looked so frankly… _predatory._

A hint of his sharp teeth showed in a dangerous promise, and Stuff felt another sharp jolt of disbelief when Marianne’s eyes sunk half-closed, the approval writ across her face almost indulgent. There was a faint flutter at the slender notch of her delicate neck, and Stuff’s mouth fell open.  _Did she just purr?!_

Stuff had seen her fair share of mating and courting rituals, but nothing could have rivaled the sheer  _shamelessness_  of the Fairy Princess in that moment. The supine line of her body pressed against the wall in such a way that Stuff was sure positively  _called_  for the King of the Dark Forest to come over to her. One slender hand drifted up, trailing over the petals of her tunic and along the line of her collar to the slope of her neck, before long fingers sank into that thatch of strangely silky hair that no Goblin had ever possessed. Her other arm stretched up against the wall, the knuckles of her hand knocking softly against the wood, the message as shameless as it was silent.  _Pin me._

Stuff cleared her throat and tried to look away, tried to focus on the ruckus around her, tried to not to gape, tried to retain  _some_  kind of professionalism –

Bog was leaning forward, his claws raking across the arms of his throne and his expression intent as he watched Marianne, and Stuff felt like she was watching a predator become prey.

Marianne fixed him with those large, amber-hued eyes, and Stuff hadn’t actually thought smoldering was something that could _truly_  happen –

The Fairy Princess’s tongue then darted across her lips, her eyes still fixed on the Bog King’s.

Bog quickly stood up from the throne, his scales rattling and his wings twitching so hard that the hubbub of the goblins immediately ceased. They stared up at him as he loomed over them, eyes wide from terror, clearly expecting a furious raking across the coals.

_“Meeting is adjourned,”_  Bog growled, stalking over to Marianne, the blue of his eyes burning. “Dismissed.”

Stuff sighed as the rest of the goblins blinked in surprise, and Marrow raised a bewildered hand. “Ah, Sire, if…if this is about our fighting, we’ll cease right now –“

“Damn right ye will.” Bog’s eyes hadn’t left Marianne’s as he approached, and now he wound a claw around her waist and pulled her to him. “Ye’ll cease now and leave now, until Ah summon ye back.”

The goblins exchanged baffled glances, bewildered at the lack of punishment for such rough behavior. “Um, Sire, we don’t –“

**_“Leave.”_**  Bog’s growl was one of pure danger, Marianne’s moan of a giggle underscoring it as his hands ran down her spine to press her close to him, both of their wings giving little shivery spasms.

The goblins immediately broke for the door, scrambling in their haste to leave. Stuff trudged after them resignedly, knowing that any true danger had passed. After all, the Princess had gotten her prize.Stuff’s lips quirked. She would be a fine ruler for the Forest one day – she was as merciless as any of its inhabitants.

Behind her, there was a laugh that somehow managed to be both breathy and throaty. “ _Someone’s_  impatient –“

_“An’ someone’s a bludy tease.”_  There was another growl, and then a soft moan.

“I  _was_  serious before.” The Princess’s voice was a cross between guilty and sincere and dazed. “I really  _didn’t_ want to interrupt, but - as soon as I saw you, I just –“

“Ah missed ye too.” The confession was rough and low yet still tender enough to send a jolt of surprise through Stuff and make Marianne fall silent. 

There was a slight pause, and when the King spoke again there was an undeniable wickedness to his voice.  _“All_  of ye.”

The same wicked delight was echoed in Marianne’s voice, all guilt utterly gone from her low, heated tones.  _“Show me.”_

Stuff chanced a quick look over her shoulder and immediately snapped her head back, her cheeks hot and her eyes wide. She was, of course, more than pleased that her King and Princess Marianne had found such undeniable happiness with one another.

But there was being pleased and then there was witnessing her King’s tongue do  _that_  –

She was a professional, but there was only so much Stuff could take. The need to leave the room immediately upgraded to a pressing one, and she added a bit of speed to her waddle.

Thang scurried up alongside her, obliviously cheerful over escaping with no injuries. “We’re lucky that she decided to pay us a visit, aren’t we? I don’t think I’ve ever been dismissed from a meeting where no one has been injured, let alone with Sire not –“ 

He looked over his shoulder and blinked. “Why is Princess Marianne climbing the King?”

Stuff grabbed his arm and hustled him out the door, her eyes grim as she heard the thud of two bodies hitting the floor, groans of pain quickly transforming into groans of something else entirely. “She’s missed him.”

There was always the hope that they would be a bit  _quieter_  than last time.


	2. Griselda

**Chapter Two: Griselda**

Griselda let out a deep sigh as she walked away from the Kitchens, where she  _had_  been planning dinner. That is, until the goblins had descended en masse like a swarm of locusts. 

Griselda had immediately made her righteous indignation be known, and the goblins, no stranger to the very real danger an irate King’s Mother posed, had quickly pleaded for sanctuary. Apparently Bog had decreed yet  _another_ meeting postponed until further notice.

Griselda rolled her eyes, but not without a fond twist to her lips. Small wonder what had prompted  _that_  decision.  _Something with big dark eyes and violet wings and a smile that could bring her boy to his knees_  –

A clattering crash came from the Kitchens, and Griselda heaved another sigh before trudging off down the hall. Second time he had done it this week, too. Bog wasn’t one to be so cavalier about calling off meetings, even with Marianne there. Heck, usually the Fairy joined in, go-getter girl that she was.  _What had changed…?_

Griselda than paused and gave a small, philosophical shrug. Then again, until about a year ago, Bog wasn’t one to even contemplate the return of Love to the Dark Forest, never mind finding Love again with a  _Fairy Princess_ , of all creatures. In the end, Griselda couldn’t be too fussed. Heck, she  _had_  always wanted her boy to loosen up a bit, and spending as much time with his sweetie was  _never_  a bad thing in Griselda’s humble opinion –

There was a chorus of shouts of alarm from behind her, and then the sound of a rather mucky explosion.

Griselda’s normally good-natured face got grim, and her eyes held an ominous glint to them as she picked up her pace, marching up the stairs and then down the hall to the Throne Room.  _Unless his subjects were mucking about in **her** Kitchens._

Right now, her protective pride in her domain trumped her eternal sense of romance. A bit of her boy’s snarling would bring those numbskulls to heel nicely. She could only hope that Marianne would forgive her for depriving her of Boggy’s company –

Reaching the great doors, Griselda hammered a fist on the door. “BOGGY! HONEY, YA NEED TO GO DO SOMETHING ABOUT THOSE INVADERS IN MY KITCHENS!” She wrenched the door open and continued on, shaking her head. “They’ve already caused one explosion, an’ I don’t want Brutus to find my secret stash of honeycomb – “

Her voice abruptly stopped as she took in the scene before her, blinking.

Just as she had suspected, Bog and Marianne were sharing the throne like they usually did and looking very cozy indeed. But usually whenever she walked in on them in their more… _romantic_  moments, there was a mad scramble to put some distance between themselves, stuttered excuses given and blushes burning on both fair and dark faces. 

But now…

Neither her son nor his paramour made any move other than to lazily look over at her, their eyes half-lidded and strangely sated. Instead of perching on the arm of the throne or even sitting in his lap as she usually did, Marianne was twined around Bog like a vine, and – goodness, but she was a  _mess!_

The petals for those strange garments of hers looked crumpled and loose, as if they had only put on as an after-thought. Her fair flesh was dewy and glowing, those large hazel eyes smoldering like hot coals, and her  _hair -!_  A comb would have sprouted legs just to run away in terror at the sight of  _that_ thicket.

As for his part, Bog seemed all too content to have Marianne sprawling so across him, loose limbed and lolling,  _and Bog didn’t loll_  –

_“Heeeeyyy, Griselda…”_  Marianne greeted, her voice a warm, languid drawl. Bog, his face now tucked into the crook of the Fairy Princess’s neck, gave a low grunt that appeared to be all that he could summon up as a greeting.

Griselda quickly realized her mouth was hanging open like some swamp guppy and gave herself a little shake. “ _Uh_  – hey there, sweet-pea. Didn’t mean to interrupt anything – “

“You didn’t,” Marianne assured her with the same lazy warmth. Her lips, looking rather red and swollen, some of their stain faded, quirked in an equally lazy smile, full of some secret satisfaction.  _“Thankfully._ ”

Bog gave a dark, rich, unexplainable chuckle at that, and Griselda’s eyes almost popped. She’d have  _never_  thought her grumpy boy could summon up a laugh like  _that -!_

_He sounds just like his father did after a –_

Bog tilted his head away to lazily regard his mother, his eyes half-open but extraordinarily content, and his growl was the pleasantest she had ever heard it. “Do ye need somethin’, Mother?” 

Griselda had been about to sputter something out, her son’s state unnerving her so, when there was another echo of a thunderous crash and a trembling shock beneath her feet.  _There went the other half of her Kitchens._

She set her jaw determinedly.  _Right, no more distractions_. “The goblins got into my Kitchens after ya dismissed them. Heaven knows I appreciate needin’ to snuggle with your sweetie – “

Marianne gave a sudden, inexplicable laugh at that, Bog quickly shushing her with a smirk on his lips. 

Griselda cocked a bewildered brow at her but continued on. “ – But I draw the line at having my Kitchens demolished just because your subjects have never learned how to keep out of trouble. Ya need to go scare ‘em straight!”

Bog groaned, his head sinking back and a faint whine entering his voice. “Can it not wait for just a–?”

“The Kingdom comes first, Bog.” Marianne said, a gentle reproach in her languid voice, slowly but surely surly detangling herself from him. Her lips then quirked in a smirk, and a sudden gleam of wickedness came into her otherwise drowsily blissful eyes. “Though in this case, I guess you could say the  _King_ came fi-“

_“Marianne!”_  Bog hissed, suddenly wide eyed as he shot a strange look of panic at Griselda, who could only look at them in utter befuddlement.

Marianne chuckled and gave his cheek a soft kiss that melted any tension, and he pushed his head against hers in a nuzzle, leaving Griselda to wonder if she was in some sort of alternate reality. Marianne, however, merely smiled and nuzzled him right back before leaning away. “Go take care of the goblins, almighty Bog King. I’ll be fine.”

She stretched as if to prove her point, and swung a leg off of him, her tone careless. “’Sides, I can always find something to do in the meantime, maybe train –  _WHOAH!”_

As soon as the Fairy had attempted to stand, her legs had completely crumpled beneath her, and Marianne fell hard to the floor in a sprawling heap.

Griselda gave a cry of alarm and raced up the steps.  _“Honey doll, oh my word -!”_

Bog lurched off his throne to reach out a concerned claw.  _“Tough Girl, are ye -?”_

Marianne quickly pushed herself up, shaking her wild hair out of her eyes, her fingers already smoothing down her top, the tumble making it gape a bit.  _“Fine!_  I’m okay! I just -!” She ran her hands over her hair and bit on her lip, and Griselda was shocked to see it was to hold back a wide grin, her dark eyes full of mirth for some bizarre reason. Her pink cheeks seemed to be the only sign of any embarrassment. “I just – wasn’t expecting  _that_  –“

She grasped Bog’s proffered hand and let herself be pulled up, and he quickly steadied her against him, still looking rather concerned. Marianne, however, was positively shaking from repressed laughter, leaning her head against his chest. When she spoke, her whisper was full of disbelieving hilarity.  _“Oh my god, you broke me.”_

Bog flushed at that, but couldn’t keep back a strange grin of amusement and bashful pride, and Griselda was left to stare at the couple, completely flummoxed.  _Good gods, what had these two gotten up to-?_

Marianne continued on, her voice a fond murmur. “I guess it  _was_  a good thing that you carried me to the throne, my legs would have  _definitely_  given out right after –“

At that moment, she seemed to realize that Griselda was still there, watching them with knitted brows. A proper blush blossomed across the Fairy’s cheeks, and she stepped back from Bog, clearing her throat and smoothing her hands down her ragged tunic. “Um,  _anyway._  Thanks. Um, you – you should probably go deal with the goblins now–“

Claws stroked over the tangled thatch of her hair, and he tilted his head to look at her straight on, his brow lowering in concern. “Are you sure you’re -?”

“I’m fine!” Marianne promised, and gestured haphazardly at herself. “Wings, shoulders, head – all good.” She then looked down and let out a faintly embarrassed laugh. “Legs…well, they’ll get there.” She shrugged, but her grin was genuine. “You go do what you need to do. I can stay for dinner.”

Bog twined his fingers with hers and lifted her hand to his mouth, his eyes fixed on hers. “My chambers?”

Marianne blushed under his gaze but still smiled. “Sure.” Her eyes got that wicked gleam in them once more, and her smile turned slightly saucy. “Probably a good idea, considering that empty Throne Rooms are proving to be a whole other kind of  _dangerous_  for –“

“There ain’t gonna be a dinner if I don’t get some help with my Kitchens,” Griselda pointed out frankly, hating herself for having to interrupt such a moment. But desperate times called for desperate measures -

Both Bog and Marianne started at her words, each sending her a rather guilty look, and Griselda immediately knew that they had forgotten she was there at all. Both of them stepped back, and yup,  _there_  they were, flushed faces and clearing throats -  

Bog grabbed his scepter from where it was leaning against his throne, and rubbed a set of claws at his neck, his gaze darting from Marianne to his mother. “ _Uh_ , they’re – they’re in the –?“

“ _Kitchens._  My Kitchens.” Griselda put her hands on her hips and shook her head at them in exasperated bewilderment. “Sweet soggy rot,  _what has gotten into you two?”_

Both of them flushed even darker at that, Marianne becoming very preoccupied with straightening her top and Bog clearing his throat once more, determinedly avoiding his mother’s gaze. “ _Right_. Um, I’ll go – “

“I’m gonna go train for a bit,” Marianne said quickly. “Or, um, sleep. Maybe.” She quickly made her way down the steps, her legs apparently much stronger, and shot a quick smile over her shoulder at the two goblins. “See ya.”

Griselda gave her a little wave, still puzzled, and looked back at her son, about to repeat her question. Her voice died on her lips as she was confronted with the sight of her Bog blatantly watching the retreating form of the Fairy Princess, an undeniable smirk of appreciation slanting across his lips as his eyes lingered on the sway of her hips.

_Gravener had always given her the same look after they_  –

Griselda’s eyes widened.  _Oh_.

**_OH_**.  

Griselda shook her head once more, although now it was in sheer wonderment at her blindness. Any bewildered annoyance disappeared like the morning mist, and she gave a soft exhale of a laugh.  _Finally_.

_“What?”_

Griselda didn’t hold back her grin as she glanced at her boy, who was looking at her with a mix of annoyance and trepidation, thoroughly distracted from watching his – well, she supposed the feisty Fairy could truly be called his  _Lover_  now – depart.

Griselda beamed at him, her beady eyes warm. “Nothin’. Just so much for me bein’ naturally sensitive to this kinda stuff.” Goodness, but it was a wonder she hadn’t realized sooner!

After that night when Bog had shown up with a thoroughly miserable Marianne and had requested to be left alone, things had been… _different_. Small wonder that Boggy had been in a positively chipper mood of late – well, chipper for  _him_ \- and calling off meetings whenever Marianne showed up. She and Gravener had been the same way after getting hitched, making use of all sorts of darkened corners, unable to keep their hands off each other…

She sighed at the flood of happy memories, and gave another smile to her boy, his brow still furrowed. “I’m happy for ya, dear. Both of you.” She then shook a finger at him impishly. “Just be sure to balance  _work_  with  _play!”_

Bog blanched, his eyes widening in utter horror.  _“Mother –“_

“Although now I can make sure the goblins won’t disturb you two! Heaven knows, that was an issue for me an’ your father.” Griselda chuckled, her smile full of fond reminiscing. “But we still had our fun. All work an’ no play made Gravener  _such_  a grouch, so I had my hands full –“

**_“MOTHER!”_ **

A third quake rocked beneath the floor of the Throne Room.

“Goodness, but the Kitchens are gonna be a mess,” Griselda tutted, looking down. “Ya better get going, honey.”

She had never seen her son move so fast, a blur of scales and wings as he shot out of the Throne Room. Griselda watched him go with a fond smile.  _My precious boy…_

Goodness, she  _definitely_  had a chance at grandkids now!


	3. Dawn

**Chapter Three: Dawn  **

Dawn sighed with all the tragedy that only a young, beautiful Fairy Princess could summon up, her slender shoulders heaving dramatically as she made her way down the hallway. To think people thought being royalty meant a life of easy comfort! 

Dawn held out a hand, examining her fanned fingers with a purse to her rosebud mouth. Several of the slender digits were still tender from her needlework, though thankfully there was no blood. Dawn had never been able to deal with the sight of it. She was normally quite deft with a needle, and so didn’t have to suffer  _too_  badly for her art. But the train on Marianne’s coronation gown, while an absolutely gorgeous testament to Dawn’s skill, demanded a provokingly finicky touch, and Dawn’s fingers had paid the price.

She supposed she  _could_  leave the train well enough alone. It wasn’t like anyone  _else_  in the Kingdom would be examining the beading on the hem with the same critical eye Dawn possessed. Indeed, the dress was as good as done, and Marianne would be absolutely  _heart-stopping_  in it, and Dawn was sure that a whole new wave of devotion would sweep the Kingdom at the sight of her sister.

_Who would be Queen little more than a week away, sweet skies…_

Dawn sighed once more, though this time it was full of happy wonder, and then set her jaw determinedly, straightening her spine. Yes, it  _wouldn’t_  stop her sister from being crowned and no one else  _would_  know if the hem wasn’t beaded to absolute perfection.

But  _she_  would know.

And Dawn would be darned before letting Marianne be crowned whilst wearing a gown of hers that was nothing less than stunning perfection.

Thus her little trip to Marianne’s quarters, which she would inherit once Marianne moved into the Queen’s chambers. Before she fiddled with the hem anymore, Dawn needed to double-check some of measurements,  _just_  to be on the safe side.

Dawn ran a hand through her hair and gave a wince at the sudden tender throb her fingertips gave. Plus, it gave her poor hands a much needed break.

She reached Marianne’s doors and went to give a quick knock, before cocking her head, surprised. The doors were built to muffle any noises in the chambers, to help give the royals there whatever privacy they could take, but…

There was something going on in there, something that sounded rather… _fervent_.

Dawn leaned closer, squinting in concentration. She was almost sure she heard Marianne’s voice, but it sounded like someone else was in there. But who on earth could it be –?

And  _why_ was Marianne making such  _gaspy_  little noises –?

And why was she  _agreeing_  to something so  _empathetically_ -?

Dawn jolted back, her eyes wide.  _Oh my god, was that a **growl –!?**_

Dawn was tempted for a few seconds to press her ear against the door before her cheeks burned in hot self-recrimination. She wasn’t the type to sneak along halls and listen at doors!

Besides, she  _had_ promised Marianne she would stop doing that when she was ten, and she had managed to keep that promise faithfully.

With that in mind, Dawn squared her shoulders and gave three sharp knocks at the door, to make sure she was heard over whatever was going on in there. “Marianne? It’s Dawn!”

There was a tiny lull of silence when suddenly a whole other ruckus started, frantic hisses and thumps and thuds and a whole bunch of other noises that had Dawn tilting her head once more, utterly perplexed.  _What on earth…?_

Then suddenly the door opened and Marianne was there, a bright smile on her face, though her skin was flushed and dewy and her eyes were big with something that looked like barely contained panic.  _“Dawn! Hey!_  Um, what’s up?”

Dawn stepped closer, torn between curiosity and concern. “Is everything okay? I thought I heard something –“

_“What?_   ** _No!_**  No, I just,  _um_ , I was just,  _uh_ , going over some stuff a-and was,  _um,_  talking to myself…” Marianne ran a hand through her hair with a sort of desperate casualness, giving a grunt when they became stuck.

Small wonder they did, what with the absolute  _mess_  the dark locks were in. Dawn would have dared to say that they were even worse than whenever Marianne got into what Dawn decreed as her Adventuring Mood. There were bits and pieces of little pink scraps in it too, ones that almost looked like –

Marianne’s words finally sunk in and Dawn arched a brow at her, distracted from her line of thought. “You don’t talk to yourself!”

Marianne looked down, her cheeks pinking as she tugged at her tunic with one hand and pulled at her pants with another, both of them looking rather rumpled. And where were her boots? “Well, I –  _um,_  technically, I was…reading out loud. Y’know, what with,  _um,_  going over official documents and – and reports. It’s a… _skill_  that I need to get used to, being Queen and all. Helps keep things clear, y’know? What did you need, Dawn?”

Dawn’s brows knit at the abrupt question, and at how Marianne was keeping the door open just the barest bit, but knew she had to keep with her mission. “I was working on your coronation gown and needed to retake some of your measurements.”

Suddenly struck by an idea, Dawn stood on her toes and peeped over Marianne’s shoulder. “But if you’re too busy going over documents, maybe you can just give me one of your dresses and I can –  _OH MY GOD!”_

She broke past Marianne, not even heeding how she frantically tried to grab her back, and rushed into her sister’s chambers, her pale blue eyes wide with shock.  _“Marianne, what happened to your bed?!”_

The large rose, usually so soft and lush and in a flawless state of bloom until it was time to be replaced with a fresh one, was utterly torn up, great chunks of petals ripped away, shreds and scraps lazily drifting across the floor. The perfect petals, quite able to stand the weight of a Fairy, were now creased and rumpled, the soft pink of them squished so that they were veined with a dark magenta, creating a pattern born of reckless ravaging and wanton wildness. And that wasn’t even counting where the petals were crushed entirely!

Even the thin streamers of gauze that hung around it seemed to have seen some of whatever madness had taken place here, rent with ragged holes, and the beaded chains were slightly askew, as if someone had been tugging on them.

Dawn gave a slow exhale of shock, her wide eyes still taking it all in. She had  _never_  seen such destruction in her life, not since the crumble of the Dark Castle…

She turned back to her sister, her voice higher as she repeated her question.  _“What happened?!”_

Marianne’s cheeks were flushing a deeper shade of pink than her ravaged bed, and her eyes darted down, and Dawn could have sworn in that moment that her feisty, tougher-than-an-old-root sister was actually  _squirming_. “Well,  _um_  – I –  _er_ –“

“It’s  _completely–!_  I mean, it’s  _totally–!”_  Dawn mouthed, not sure what word could fully capture the sheer wreckage before her, and then looked back at her sister. Her wide blue eyes grew even larger.  _“Oh my god, is that’s what’s in your hair?!”_

Marianne blinked at her and cautiously scrubbed a hand through her hair, and sure enough, little bits of rose petal fluttered down. Her hazel eyes widened, and her cheeks burned even more fiercely. “ _Oh._  I –  _um_ , I guess I didn’t realize –“

“What  _happened?!_  Who  _did_  this? Was this  _you?_  Or was it -?” Dawn gasped loudly and looked around frantically.  _“Oh my god, Marianne, did you bring another lizard into your room!?”_

_“What?”_  A bemused voice said from one of the corners of the chamber.

Dawn jumped about a foot in the air while Marianne swore under her breath, aiming baleful eyes at the creature who had just emerged from whatever shadows could be found in this place.

But Dawn, despite her initial shock, broke into a large, beaming smile.  _“Boggy!”_

Of  _course_  he was here, he was probably helping Marianne prep for her coronation -

“Bog,” the King corrected, stepping over the scattered remains of Marianne’s bed. Such a response was tradition by now. At least, Dawn liked to think so. Anyway, she was relatively sure that if she stopped calling her sister’s boyfriend that nickname, there would be wistful, hurt questions given to Marianne over what he had  _possibly_  done wrong. “Marianne kept a lizard here?”

“A  _baby_  one,” Marianne shot back, hunching her shoulders and looking cross. “It had a hurt foot, I wanted to take care of it.” She stepped closer to him and lowered her voice to a hiss.  _“And so much for staying hidden, your majesty –“_   

Dawn snorted, rolling her eyes. “His foot wasn’t so hurt when he started tearing your room apart.” She turned to Bog, always eager for new audience for one of her favorite stories. “Dad was  _horrified,_ and Mom was–”

Marianne crossed her arms, giving an offended glare. “I was six years old Dawn! I wouldn’t do that  _now_  –“

Dawn let out another snort and put her hands on her hips. “You sure about that?”

_“There’s no lizard, Dawn!”_ Marianne’s scowl of exasperation turned on Bog as he smothered his mouth to keep back a cough that had sounded a lot like a laugh.

_“Then how the heck do you explain this?!”_  Dawn waved a hand at the shredded bed.

Marianne’s irritated expression immediately dropped in favor of the return of extreme, awkward discomfort. “ _Ah_  – um, that was – that was–“

“That was me.”

Marianne and Dawn turned to Bog; Dawn’s confused  _“What?”_  uttered the same time as Marianne’s inexplicably horrified  _“Bog!”_

Dawn shook her head, confused. “Wait, you’re – you’re saying  _you_  did this?  _How?_  What happened?”

Bog shrugged a shoulder carelessly, his scales shifting. “Tripped.”

Dawn looked at the bed, then at him, and then back at the bed, before letting out a disbelieving laugh.  _“This_  happened just from tripping–?”

She stopped suddenly and considered Bog, taking him in from head to toe. Like Marianne, he also looked rather rumpled – well, as rumpled as someone like  _him_ could be – and his exoskeleton was absolutely covered with bits and pieces of all too familiar rose petals.

In fact, he was  _plastered_  with the stuff, especially across his back -  

Dawn squinted and tried to work it out. “So…so you  _tripped_ …and got stuck?”

Bog nodded, his eyes also going over to the bed. “Aye. I’m not used to such furniture. My claws didn’t help either, I suppose.” A strange smirk stole over his lips. “Then Marianne decided to lend a hand –“

Marianne, for some reason, gasped and aimed a swat at Bog, which he easily dodged.

But Dawn was distracted by the sudden image of an angry Bog, trapped by an innocent, sweet-smelling rose.  _Oh my **god.**_

Dawn couldn’t repress her giggle.  _“That_  must have been embarrassing –“

She clapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide.  _“I’m sorry!_  I’m  _so_ sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh, I just -!” She removed her hands to wring them, looking apologetically at Marianne, whose complexion couldn’t seem to decide between going pale or burning with a blush. “Oh god, _that’s_  why you were stalling in telling me, you didn’t want to embarrass him –“

“Yes, quite embarrassing,” Bog said with some dryness. “But I’ll live.”  

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dawn asked sympathetically, still feeling guilty for getting such amusement out of his misfortune. “I mean, if you’re hurt, I can go get Dad and we can –“

Marianne ran to her wardrobe, seizing a dress from its depths, and ran back to Dawn to shove it into her hands before guiding her to the doors. “Here! Here’s a dress! That should help you! I’ll be by your rooms later so I can try the gown and everything will be okay and you won’t have to come back or get Dad! Bye Dawn!”

Dawn found herself out in the hall and turned around confusedly, giving a slight wave to Bog. “Um, okay. Good-“

Marianne’s doors slammed shut.

“-Bye.” Dawn stared at the door, utterly befuddled. Marianne was  _never_ usually so pushy. Bossy, yes, but not like this.  _What_  had gotten her into such a state? Boggy had been the one to get hurt, but it was her sister who was making such a fuss -

As Dawn was busy pondering, the strains of conversation came through the door. This time, Dawn’s will was only so strong, and she leaned in a tiny bit, her smooth brow furrowing in concentration.

“ – Can’t believe you made a crack about me lending you a hand!”

“Oh, it’s fine for  _you_  to do it in front of my  _mother_ , but if  _I_ do it –“

_“Not in front of Dawn!_  God, as soon as she saw the bed, she knew something was up!”

“And whose fault is that?”

_“Yours!”_

“Wha-?  _No!_  You’re the one who was making her suspicious–“

_“Oh my god_ , don’t you  _even_ , almighty Bog  _Let’s Try Something Different_ King! It’s because of  _you_  that the bed is a mess in the first place!”

There was a pause, and then a sullen mutter. “You weren’t objecting to it,  _Princess_. And you bloody well helped with that wretched rose.”

There was another pause, and then Marianne gave a soft laugh, any ire in her voice ebbing away. “And  _you_  didn’t think my bed was so  _wretched_  at the beginning…”

Bog’s answering chuckle was so soft it verged on an exhale, and Dawn felt a little burble of happiness in her chest over how frankly  _happy_  those two nerds made each other. “Aye…I didn’t.” A faint sourness crept into his tone. “Even if I am going to smell of it for a bloody week.”

“I smell like moss most of the time, now we’re square.” Marianne chuckled, and Dawn heard the soft drag of footsteps stepping closer to someone. Her sister’s voice dropped to a murmur, an odd heat entering it. “Y’know…you were right. I  _wasn’t_ objecting to it.”

Bog’s voice was amused, but there was a new quality to it, an echo of the same heat in Marianne’s. “Yeah?”

“Yeah…I mean, I  _like_  different.  _Really_  like it.” There was an impish giggle. “Especially if it makes you –“

The growl that drowned out her words could be described no other way than amorous, but Dawn had already jerked away from the door, her eyes wide, her cheeks and ears burning.  _Oh._

Oh, she  _shouldn’t_  be listening to this, she  _really_  shouldn’t be listening to this –

There was a  _flump_  from behind the doors like two bodies hitting a rather squished rose, growls and giggles mixing.  

Dawn immediately took of down the hall, her wings fluttering frantically, her cheeks a brilliant shade of pink and her hands twisting her sister’s gown _. Yep, definitely **not** listening to this!_

She took a sharp corner and bit her lip, slowing down. So…Bog and Marianne were…were getting… _intimate_.

At least, she  _thought_  so. Maybe it was just a tiny bit of… _canoodling_.

…Canoodling that left her sister’s bed utterly destroyed.

Dawn chewed on her lip, letting her wings settle behind her as she made her way to her chambers, knowing she needed a good walk to sort her thoughts.

Okay, so…there was a _very_  good chance indeed that Marianne and Bog had decided to…get a bit more  _adventurous_ in regards to the physical side of their relationship. Unsurprising, considering their personalities. And heck, it  _had_  been a year, they were bound to want a little bit more –

Never mind that she and Sunny had been together for a year and didn’t feel any need to get to  _that_  –

Though Marianne and Bog  _were_  much older than her and Sunny, and were whole different people entirely –

But both of them were princesses! There were certain expectations, told to them by a dozen royal nursemaids –

But it wasn’t like Marianne wasn’t  _totally_  gonna get married to Bog one day and be his Queen –

_Oh gosh, if they were doing it **now** , imagine what they’ll be like when they’re  **married**  –_

Dawn gasped and clapped her hands to her face, Marianne’s dress tumbling out of her grip.  _OH NO OH GOD NO NO NO DO NOT CONTINUE THAT THOUGHT **DO NOT CONTINUE THAT THOUGHT –!**_

Her groan was pitiful, and Dawn was very thankful that no one was around to witness it. She rubbed her hands over her face, and then straightened her shoulders, setting her jaw before smartly bending down to pick up Marianne’s dress.

None of that mattered. No matter if her sister and her boyfriend were still only at make-outs or had moved onto… _other_  things, it wasn’t Dawn’s business. Marianne was a grown Fairy, and soon to be Queen. If she could rule a Kingdom, she could darn well decide what to do with her body.

Besides, Bog loved Marianne, and Marianne loved him. Dawn smiled softly. Of that she had never had a single doubt. They  _loved_  each other and  _respected_  each other and made each other  _happy_ …

_Apparently very, **very**  happy…_

Dawn let out a squeak and flushed red as a cherry, before hurriedly setting off down the hall. It was one thing to being accepting and respectful of your sister’s choices.

But there were just some things one most empathetically did NOT need to think about in connection to their sibling.


	4. Dagda

**Chapter Four: Dagda**

Dagda hummed to himself as he made his way down the halls to the Council Chamber, his steps and heart both light as dusk fell about the land. Singing songs was something only the young crowd truly did, but for a moment he was tempted to let loose with a few notes, before chuckling and shaking his head.  _You’re the still the King even if it is for only one more week now. Keep your dignity while you can._

Dagda’s smile broadened at the thought. All conceivable preparations had been made for the coronation ceremony, and for the first time in a long time, he felt he could breath easy.  _It was finally here…_

His decision to move Marianne’s coronation up was undoubtedly one of his best – the sight of his girl, so brave and strong and true, being crowned before the Kingdom, his Kingdom –

_Her Kingdom…_

To think he was actually going to see his precious girl to be  _Queen_ …

Dagda sighed, his heart full.  _Oh darling, I wish you were here to see it._

The faint pang of pain at that thought pulled at his mouth bit, but Dagda determinedly pushed it aside and moved onward. The past could not be changed, and when the future looked as bright as it did now, it was all too easy to fix one’s eyes on that glow of promise. Marianne would wear the crown that had sat on her mother’s brow, and at long last, the Fairy Kingdom would once more have a Queen, one the likes of which Dagda was sure the Fields had never seen.

_And she’ll rule with a King who will match her in that regard…_

Dagda’s steps slowed, and then he gave a sigh that was both weary and self-recriminating. He could not pretend that he didn’t still have some… _concerns_ over Marianne choosing the Bog King, but he certainly hoped none of them carried the poison of prejudice. He was trying to get better at that, he  _was_. The last thing they needed before the coronation was another reason for Marianne to lose her faith in him again…

He straightened up and marched down the hall.  _He would not fail her again._ It was the vow of a King and the promise of a father.

Speaking of fatherly duties, he  _should_  try and check up on Marianne. She had been holding up quite well during the final wait before the ceremony, but Dagda knew his girl well enough to know that she would be keen to hide any anxiety for the fear of looking weak. She might appreciate him offering any support he could in these last few days. The last time he had seen here, she had mentioned that she would be in the Library. He could always stop there on his way to the Council Chamber to pick up some royal documents –

Dagda looked up suddenly, realizing that he hadn’t been paying attention as he walked, consumed by his thoughts, and gave a surprised chuckle. After years of pacing in thought, his body was used to taking over and using muscle memory to take certain paths. And now the Library doors loomed before him, and he shook his head once more, a smile crossing his lips.

And yes, there was Marianne’s voice, sounding  _very_ empathetic about something and being rather  _loud_ , considering she was in the Library –

 _No matter._  With a brisk cheeriness, Dagda reached a hand for the handle and as he called out to her. “Marianne? It’s your father.” He pulled the door open and poked his head in, his smile echoed in his voice. “I was just wondering if –“

_“Oh yeah, oh **baby**  yes, oh Bog, oh - OH MY GOD,  **DAD!”**_

Dagda closed the door so quickly that it nearly slammed, the reverberations of it sending tingling shudders jolting through his hand. It would have been intensely uncomfortable if he hadn’t been numb with pure shock, his heart thudding sickeningly –

He closed his eyes, which he immediately and profoundly regretted, the image of  _that – them –_ burning clear –

 _Oh skies, right on the table_  -

There was a deep, painful silence both in the hall and behind the doors, the tension thickening so fast it felt like it was pressing down on him. Then Dagda was able to summon up a deep, calming breath.  _You’re the King. Be strong._

He kept his eyes closed as he addressed the door. “I should have knocked.”

His voice was determinedly calm in a way that indicated all too well that he was most certainly  _not_ , and a small sound of pure mortification leaked out from beneath the doors.

Then Marianne spoke, her voice both breathless and cracking from humiliation. “No – Dad – it’s – it’s  _okay_ , we’ll –  _I’ll_  be out –“      

“No no no, I’ll – I’ll just…” Dagda stumbled and stuttered over his assurances. Oh heavens, there was  _no_  formal training on how to deal with a fellow King doing  _that_  to your daughter –

_A Goblin doing that –!_

Dagda bit on his cheek, his emotions hot and messy as they crashed about inside him.  _It’s not because he’s a Goblin, you would have reacted this way if you had seen her with Roland or any other Fairy, you’re her father and it’s protectiveness, **not**  disgust, **it’s not because he’s a Goblin**  –_

He closed his eyes and tried to breathe.  _Focus._  “I’m going to go to the Council Chamber,” he said as clearly as he could. “We…we can talk later.”

There was a pause, and then a low, pained exhale, barely heard from behind the heavy doors. Really, what with how noise was muffled, small wonder he hadn’t known not to –

“…Okay. I’ll…I mean,  _we_ need to…um,  _clean up_  in here anyway.”

Dagda repressed the deeply felt urge to wince and instead gave a short, sharp nod, before realizing that she couldn’t see that. “Uh… _yes_. Of course. You…you take the time that you need, my dear.”

He quickly started down the hall, the cool press of his armor already picking up the heat of the flush that seared up his neck and spine, all traces of his previous good mood utterly demolished -

There was a rough rumble of a sigh, and a new, instantly recognizable voice came from behind the doors in a low mutter. “Thank gods Mother only walked in on us  _after_  we –“

There was a crackling sound like the swat of a palm hitting scales, and a yelp.

Dagda picked up the pace, repeating his old wish that that flight hadn’t been lost to him with newfound fervency.

* * *

It was a wonder that the floor of his chambers didn’t have a rut worn into the floor by now, what with how he had passed them for all these years. Dagda now wished there was a one, any visible way to guide his steps. Now he was just wandering in wild, disorganized loops, sightless and unthinking and yet concentrating  _so hard_  on  _not_  thinking about it,  _them_  –

 _Sprawled on the table_  –

Dagda groaned and rubbed at his eyes. He would have to have the servants scour it until the very varnish came off. Or maybe he could just do away with it entirely. Perhaps a bonfire to celebrate Marianne’s reign was in order –

Dagda stopped and clenched his fists, his face furrowing in self-disgust. He was being horribly over-dramatic. He was not the first parent to walk in on their child in – in such  _intimate_  moments, nor would he be the last.

And whether it was with a Goblin or an Elf or a fellow ruler or a subject, Dagda would do right by his girls and make  _sure_  that they needn’t fear his reaction – truly, for skies sake, it wasn’t like it wasn’t just as mortifying for them –

Dagda sighed and straightened both his spine and his crown.  _He could do this._

Besides, there was the very likely chance indeed that if he had –  _encountered_ Marianne and Bog like that, then so had others. And if that was the case, Marianne would certainly need his help in quelling any ideas that she had –

There was a somewhat timid knock at his door, and an even more timid voice. “…Dad? It’s Marianne.”

Dagda felt his stomach give a traitorous lurch before he firmly set his jaw _. She needs to see that you can do this._  “Please come in, my dear.”

The door opened with a soft  _click_ , and Marianne slid in, her eyes large and lovely and so very worried. She did indeed look considerably… _tidier_ than when he had last seen her –

–  _on the table, pinned by that great scaly body_  –

Dagda clenched his hands, his nails biting into his palms.  _For goodness sake, **don’t think about it.**_

Marianne, always so keen-eyed from her training, took in that tiny gesture and her eyes grew full even more full of trepidation, and she bit at her lip as a hand fluttered up to her hair. The movement tugged at the line of her collar, and Dagda suddenly spotted a splotch of purple, the crescent moon mark of it on her throat unmistakable–

Dagda flushed hot, but fought desperately to keep his expression neutral. _But oh heavens, his sweet girl marked by those **fangs**  –_

Although now that he thought of it, certain marks that had been lurking at the Bog King’s throat were no longer so perplexing –

To think his Marianne had done _that –_

Dagda hastily pulled back his wince.  _No, definitely do **not**  think_.

Marianne’s eyes flickered over his face, and her cheeks flushed pink as primroses before she exhaled gustily. “Dad – Dad, I’m  _so_  sorry –“

“No, darling, I am,” Dagda said sincerely, his own discomfort outweighed by the need to spare his girl anymore pain. “I should have knocked –“

“I should have locked the door,” Marianne quipped, raising a shoulder and giving a somewhat guilty smile.

Dagda blanched, and Marianne immediately blushed anew, her eyes wide and mortified. “ _Oh my god, I_  – Dad, I was just – I was just kidding, I wasn’t – oh god, I just need to shut up –“

“No no no, please don’t shut up – I mean,  _please_  don’t feel like you  _need_ to…” Dagda’s voice trailed off, and then he gave a sigh, passing a weary hand over his face. His voice was muffled when he spoke again. “I’m no good at this.”

Marianne gave a small laugh, her cheeks still pink. “That makes two of us.”

Dagda betrayed a somewhat weak chuckle, before looking back up at her, and oh, she looked so nervous, so unsure. His voice got soft with sincerity as he took her in. “Marianne, my dear…it’s all right. I…I understand.”

Marianne blinked at him, looking thoroughly unnerved. “You…you  _do?”_

Dagda nodded, her obvious shock spurring him on. “I…yes, I suppose. I mean, I wouldn’t say any father would – would want to see  _that_ –“

Marianne blushed crimson and looked down, her wings giving a twitch as though tempted to wrap around herself as a shield.

Dagda hastily continued. “But – well, you and the Bog King have – have been together for quite some time now” –  _and I’ve only just accepted that, but that’s another matter entirely_  – “and…and all couples need those…moments.”

Marianne was looking at him like she had never seen him before, but nodded, slow and dazed. “Uh…yeah…”

“I…” Dagda flushed but moved to her, taking her hands gently. He kept his eyes on her fingers, but the sincerity in his voice was soft and real. “You…you  _can_  take care of yourself, my dear. I…I trust you.”

There was a shaky exhale, and when Dagda dared to look up, Marianne looked almost close to tears, she seemed so relieved and touched. _“Dad…”_ she murmured, her voice catching a bit, and her hands squeezed his.

Dagda squeezed back, a smile tugging at his lips.  _They could do this._

Then one of his earlier thoughts suddenly came back to him, and he gripped her hands with a bit more urgency. “I only suggest that you exercise a bit more… _discreetness._ ”

Marianne pinked again, and Dagda squirmed a bit himself but persevered onwards nonetheless.  “You and I both know how people love to talk –“

“Only too well,” Marianne agreed, her eyes grim with understanding.

Dagda nodded fervently, his crown jouncing a bit. “ _Exactly._  We can’t dangerous assumptions and accusations flying about, especially before your coronation. I mean, if there were rumors that you – well – that you and the Bog King,  _um_ , had,  _uh_ , engaged in – before –” Dagda’s face burned beneath his beard.  _Oh dear._

Marianne’s brow was furrowing in confusion, and he rushed on, hasty and earnest. “Marianne, I  _know_ you would never, I  _do_. I know you would  _never_ take such a risk. But unless you exercise a bit more caution, there  _will_ be talk that you two have been… _intimate_  before any official betrothal has been declared.” Dagda sighed over just the thought of such nasty speculation before clasping his daughters’ hands again, hoping she could see he wasn’t being false in his reassurances. “But I  _know_ you understand that, darling. I know you would  _never.”_

Marianne stared at him, her eyes huge and unblinking, seemingly frozen where she stood.

Dagda bit a lip anxiously. Goodness, he hoped he hadn’t shocked or offended her with such a frank speech about –  _that_  – but…

He licked his lips and tried to find another way to drive his point home. “I mean, if there was any doubt that you weren’t a virgin before being crowned –"

“Dad,” Marianne said, the sudden sound of her voice quite loud. “Dad, it’s okay. I…I get it.”

Dagda brightened. “You do?”

Marianne nodded, and Dagda saw that her cheeks were a bit pale. It seemed like the severity of the situation had gotten to her after all. Her eyes looked down, away from his, and Dagda felt a slight twist go through his heart that such a topic had embarrassed her so.

“We’ll…” she inhaled deeply and then looked back up at him, her jaw clenched, and the hazel of her eyes shone with determination and honesty. “We’ll be…discreet.”  

Dagda felt himself almost wilt in relief, and he beamed at her. “Thank you, sweetheart. I knew you would understand.” Another thought came to him, and he looked at her worriedly. “Of course, I’m not trying to say that you can’t – well, have any, um… _fun_  at all –“

 ** _“DAD!”_**  Marianne squawked, dropping his hands to clamp hers to her once again brilliantly red cheeks.

Dagda hastily backed up, putting up his hands. “I’m sorry! I’ll stop! I’ll,  _um_ , leave now–“

Marianne shook her head so hard her ears waggled. “No no no, I’ll,  _um_ , leave – I mean, these are  _your_  chambers –“

 _Oh. Right_. Dagda smiled at her, his cheeks feeling a touch pink too. “Of course. Thank you for coming by to talk about this, my dear.”

Marianne bit her lip and nodded, her eyes once more fixed on the floor as she nearly ran to the door, exiting with clumsy haste. Dagda sighed. Well, he suppose there would always be some things that were just plain uncomfortable to talk to your father about –

_Oh, like you were any better._

Dagda winced and then gave a laugh that verged on a sigh.  _I’m the King, not a miracle worker, my love_.

It would be fine. Everything would be fine. There coronation would proceed as planned, and even if Dagda was certain he wouldn’t be able to look the Bog King in the face for at least a week now, there was no true damage done. He and Marianne understood each other.

All was well.

* * *

“What do you mean,  _‘he can never know’?”_

“What I mean, almighty Bog King, is that he thought  _we were just making out!”_

_“…What?”_

“Yeah…”

_“How the bloody hell did he not –?”_

“Y’know, I never thought I would say this, but…there are times that Dad’s willful blindness can be a gift.”  


	5. Sunny

**Chapter Five: Sunny**

Sunny was used to comments and jokes about how perfectly  _suited_  his name was, what with his upbeat personality. He had always born them with a smile – besides, it was better than jokes about his height. 

But now he unrepentantly beamed up at the bright blue sky that arced over the Fields, his face stretched in a smile that was as bright and cheerful as his namesake. Today was gonna be  _great!_

Being appointed as the one of the official organizers for festivals and get-together’s  (Dawn always protested, saying he wasn’t just one of them, Marianne had made him  _the_  official organizer, but hey, that was Dawn) had kept him busy, but Sunny relished such activity. He worked as he performed, skipping and sliding smoothly from one thing to another, using everything available to him to make it something  _special_ , something  _great_. And when in doubt, there was nothing wrong with improvising!

His energy was already boundless, but now that he and Dawn were  _official_ , it was like he was on a rush as good as a nectar buzz.  _Her love is just as sweet –_

Sunny’s grin widened even as he gave a laugh over his frank sentimentality. Oh man, he had it  _bad._  But then, he always had. Only difference was now he knew Dawn had it just as bad for him.  _Him, of all people, choosing him to shine her light on_ –

His joy zipped down to his feet, and Sunny grinned as he gave into the call to  _move_ , vaulting over an arching root and doing cartwheels, which brought him over to the space where tonight’s festival would be held, a great hallowed log with plenty of open room for dancing, not too far off from the Border. It was a new location, sure, but Marianne had been incredibly pleased at Sunny’s suggestion, reasoning that holding more parties nearer to the Dark Forest might help foster positive sentiment towards it.

Dawn had let out a squeal of pure delight as her sister had passed the notion, and her hug had felt like the Sun itself had come down and embraced him. Sunny grinned, faintly smug.  _Not too bad for a little guy._

He executed a sharp turn, the soil beneath him churning, and let his fingers snap as he continued on his way. With his new job and the new respect it put in people’s eyes as they looked at him, his relationship being as dizzyingly wonderful as ever, and the general gloriousness of the day, it was safe to say that  _this_ little guy had a song in his heart. Heck, it was safe to say there was a whole choreographed number going on in there!

Sunny’s smile broadened.  _Only one thing to do then._

His feet began to shuffle and slide, his body saying and bopping to the tempo of his heart. Sunny rolled and rocked, letting his eyes sink closed as he gave himself over to the moment and the music in his veins, his grin shaping the words of his song.  _“Don’t worry, ‘bout a thing…’cause every little thing, is gonna be –“_

_“OHHHH!”_

The sudden cry pierced the sweet Summer air, throaty and full and startling Sunny so that he reeled back, his arms pin-wheeling. He landed with a hard  _flump_  upon the ground and looked around wildly, his heartbeat now kicked into a samba and his eyes wide. What the  _heck_  was  _that?_

The cry came again, but now another noise followed it, a rough, almost feral sound, and Sunny felt a prickle of fear across his neck even and shivered despite the warm, dappling sun. He no longer had to worry about lizards – having one besotted with you actually  _did_  have a few perks –but there was always the chance of other beasts lurking about. Usually the Forest had more predators than the Fields, but…he  _was_  right by the Border. And if there  _was_ one…

Sunny fought another shiver and squared his shoulders determinedly. If there was a dangerous creature in the Fields, Marianne would want a report.

Taking a deep breath that puffed out his chest, Sunny crept forward to where all the ruckus was coming from. He couldn’t make any sense of it –it was strange and rough, groans and growls and grunts emerging from a thicket of tall, waving grass, the petals of the primroses trembling sweetly in the light breeze above it. The Bog King seemed to be giving them another chance, and as nervous as Sunny was just then, he had to smile over just  _what_ Marianne’s influence had managed.  _She’s gonna be a great Queen –_

Creeping the last few steps closer, Sunny took another deep breath and parted the grass as stealthily as he could, and quickly peeked in to see just  _what_ was going on –

He nearly jumped back in surprise, shock and relief coursing over him like a stream over a pebble. Then he betrayed a slight smile, rolling his eyes. Well, no need to inform Marianne about any dangerous, noisy beasts when  _she_ was one of them. 

And as dangerous as the Bog King still was, he was no threat to the Fields now, especially not to Marianne –

Marianne gave a gaspy little cry that the Bog King followed with a snarl of his own, the shadows of the primroses drifting over both of their backs. Sunny had to smother a laugh. Dawn had already told him about how frankly  _loud_  the two could get, and  _man_ , she hadn’t been exaggerating. Although…

Sunny squinted and tilted his head, confused. What  _were_  they doing? Wrestling? He knew that they both liked to spar…

The Bog King’s body, all sharp points and scales, pressed down upon Marianne’s in what seemed to be some sort of hold, those claws of his gripping her hips so hard it was a wonder that they hadn’t pierced her skin. His fearsome fangs were bared, his severe, sharp face contorted in a grimace –

Marianne’s front was pressed down into the grass and dirt, her wings draped out of the way as her back arched into the curve of the Goblin’s chest, her slender body positively _writhing_  beneath his –

But…she didn’t really look like she was trying to  _fight_  him off. And all the noises she was making didn’t seem to be all that furious or ferocious, but kind of… _pleading?_

_Marianne doesn’t **do**  pleading._

Sunny surveyed the scene, utterly bewildered.  _What kind of fight was this –?_

Marianne’s hands clawed across the ground, the soil churning up black and rich underneath her hooked fingers, and Sunny hadn’t known a voice could be so  _throaty. “Oh Bog, oh **baby**  yes, yes yes yessss,  **more** , p-please more,  **harder**  –“_

The Bog King gave a savage growl at that that seemed to set all his scales to rattling, and jerked forward, his hips slamming  _hard_  against her as his wings twitched like crazy.

Marianne  _wailed_ , her face twisting in something almost like pain.  _“Oh, yessssssss –!”_  

Sunny hit the ground so hard that he could have sworn something cracked, and oh  _god_ , he could only hope it was his skull and that sweet, blessed unconsciousness would take him away,  _far far away –_

_Oh god oh god **oh god** , he had – he had  **watched**  them –!_

Oh god, he hadn’t  _meant_  to, hadn’t  _realized_ , he would have  _never_  if he had –  _oh god,_  was it still peeping if the person hadn’t  _known –?_

_Oh god, he could still **hear**  them!_

Sunny clamped his hands over his ears and screwed up his eyes as if that would help. But oh  _man_ , Dawn hadn’t been kidding at  _all_  when she said that  _nothing_ could block them out –

“C’mon Bog, _c’mon baby,_ I  _– **ooooohhh**! – _ I  _want_ it, I _– **ahhh!**  – _want _all_ of it _–“_

_“Don’t – **argh**  – want –  **hrrgh**  – ta –  **huff**  – hurt –  **mmphh**  – ye –”_

Sunny clutched his ears more firmly, his cheeks burning splotchy and fierce. He had never heard the Bog King sound so – well, like  _that,_  and now he was certain horribly certain that those ragged tones would echo in his ears until his dying day.

 _“Nooooo you won’t, no you won’t,”_  Marianne babbled, ragged and desperate, and Sunny whimpered miserably. Oh  _god_ , now he knew what his girlfriend’s sister sounded like when –  _oh god, what his future Queen sounded like when –!_

Marianne continued on, panting with each word.  _“Please_ , I  _love_  it, I love it  _soooo_  much, you feel  _so fucking good_ , oh  _baby_ please, I  _want_ it, I can take it,  _trust_  me,  _love_   _me BoooOOOOOOOOOOH **GOD!”**_

Her crescendoing voice cracked, and then a strangled sounding roar rent the air –

Sunny broke for it, stumbling on numb legs,  _he had to get away_  –

And as smooth as his moves were before, now he was as clumsy as a baby squirrel, blinded by panic –

His foot hooked over a pebble and with a sharp  _twist_ he fell like a stone –

Sunny’s sharp cry of pain was stopped as soon as he slapped his hands over his mouth, but the damage was done.

The silence was almost sickening in its suddenness, and Sunny’s heart gave a lurch at Marianne’s horrified whisper that was barely heard over the rustle of the primrose petals _. “Oh god, someone’s there.”_

Sunny’s mind blanked with terror –

And then the performer in him took over.  ** _Improvise._**

Despite the extreme protest of his ankle, Sunny got up and sprinted a respectable distance - running away wouldn’t help; they would worry over someone tattling on them to the King, spreading damaging rumors. Right now, Sunny could see one available choice.  _Oh please oh please oh please, let this work!_

He stopped and took an inhale that filled him from his head to his toes, and began singing, his voice nearly a shout.  _“DON’T WORRY,”_  Sunny sang, his voice cracking from exertion and lingering pain,  _“’BOUT A THING –”_

There was a sudden flurry of noise and activity from the Border, scrambling and scraping and a mess of hissed words that sounded a lot like,  _“Sunny!”, “The Elf!”,_  and  _“Oh god, are my pants torn?!”_

Sunny closed his eyes at the mental image that brought and continued with his song, taking desperately jaunty steps closer to the Border, signaling his approach as loudly as he could.  _“‘CAUSE EVERY LITTLE THING – IS GONNA BE ALRIGHT –“_

Marianne tumbled out of the grass, her limbs a tangle of motion, her elbows and the underside of her forearms prink with imprints of twigs and gravel and all sorts of wild, messy things. Her top was mussed, but it was nothing compared to the state of her pants, her knees utterly filthy with dirt and grass stains.

Sunny gave a silent but deeply felt lamentation for his innocence. Oh god, he had thought she would try and stay hidden…!

Despite the rush of her entrance and still being slightly out of breath, Marianne aimed a wide smile at him, her eyes the only give away to any panic. “Sunny! Hey there!”

Sunny couldn’t help but be impressed with her quick recovery under such circumstances.  _That will come in handy when she rules –_

Marianne continued on, one hand reaching down to subtly tug up the waist of her pants. “Thought – thought I heard you…”

 _I definitely heard you._  Sunny immediately squashed that thought and summoned up his own bright smile to beam back at her. “Hey, Marianne! Yeah,  _uh,_  you – you know me and singing, just,  _uh_ , just can’t help myself –“

“Yeah, sure do,” Marianne grinned back, her lips looking like their were only a few seconds away from slipping into a grimace as she delicately edged herself in front of the clump of grass as if she could possibly hide it from view. “I,  _ah_ , know all about that –  _um_ , I mean, not being able to,  _uh_ , help yourself…”

_Oh, **god.**_

Sunny tried to make his wince into a laugh, but it sounded kinda strangled. “Yup,  _uh_ , that’s…that’s the truth…”

_Oh god, this was **horrible** , he was being so  **obvious** , he hadn’t expected her to come out, he had expected her to try and keep hidden –!_

Then again, this  _was_  Marianne, the Fairy Princess who had made going against expectations into a personal code of honor. Sunny had always admired that about her, but oh man, not when it meant  _this!_

Oh  _god_ , he now knew what his  _girlfriend’s sister_ sounded like when –

_Holy hell, what his future Queen sounded like when –!_

Marianne ran a hand through her hair, her eyes now avoiding his. “So, um…what are you up to?”

 _Getting the heck away from here._  “Uh, just…making my way down to where the, uh, festival is gonna be.” Sunny’s teeth were beginning to get dry what with how they were still bared in that grin. He wondered if it even looked remotely friendly now. “’Cause…that’s…that’s what I’m doing…”

“Sounds good!” Marianne nodded enthusiastically, her ears waggling slightly. “Sounds, uh, great. Should be fun. Um, I know some of the goblins might show…”  

Sunny blinked and then grinned for real. “That’s great! Will you and the Bog King be there?”

_Oh no no no, **wrong**  thing to say, wrong thing, don’t mention him –!_

Marianne’s face went a traitorous shade of crimson, and oh  _god_ , he was such a freaking  _idiot._

But Marianne mustered on in a way that Sunny would have found truly impressive if he hadn’t been so utterly besieged with turmoil. “ _Um_ , we…we might skip out on it, no offense. We don’t…we don’t really… _do_  parties like you and Dawn do. Might just have a…quiet night…”

Despite the sheer direness of the situation, Sunny was tempted to roll his eyes.  _Yeah, because you two have **such**  a handle on being quiet._

But he managed to keep it together, his smile staying on. “That’s cool! Whatever works for you two. Um, so…I…I better go –“

 _“Did you hear anything on your way here?”_  Marianne burst out, before clapping her hands over her mouth and turning a very peculiar shade of fuchsia.

Sunny gaped at her, his mind blanking in shock. In that strange emptiness a random thought fluttered by delicately, sounding an awful lot like Dawn.  _“Told you she had awkwardness down to an art form…”_

Sunny flicked that thought away and took a deep gulp.  ** _Improvise_** _, man. Improvise or die a legit death of embarrassment._

 _“Hear_  anything?” Sunny said, throwing his whole face into a pondering grimace. “Uh, nope,  _nope,_  not really – I mean, uh, you know me, I get, uh, kinda into my own world, uh, with singing…”

Marianne was sharper than a thorn patch and Sunny was absolutely sure that she would suss him out as she had done with many a fib he and Dawn had tried to pull when they were kids and seeking to escape her watchful eye.

But then Marianne began to nod slowly, the blush fading from her cheeks. “Sure…that…that sounds right…”

Sunny blinked and bit down on his cheek to contain his relieved laugh. God, but the Sugar Plum hadn’t been lying about Love being strange if it made  _Marianne_  of all people swallow such obvious lies.

Although there was also the all too likely fact that anyone’s wits  _would_  be slightly muddled after such extreme –

Sunny dug his nails into his palm, his face once again stretching into a beaming grin that just barely held back his panic.  _Nope nope nope, **not** going there, not going there ever again._ “So,  _uh_ …see ya later!”

And with that he was off, walking away from her as quickly and casually as he could, though his foot was still paining him something awful –

Sunny bit down on a whimper just as Marianne cocked her head at him, a concerned glint in her eyes. “Sunny, you okay? You’re kinda…hobbling –?”

Sunny looked over his shoulder, his grin was bright as ever, even as sweat formed on his brow. “ _What? Nah!_  This is, uh…” Sunny thought frantically. “This is a…new dance! I’m,  _um_ , testing out some _, uh_ , new moves for tonight! So, thanks for the feedback! Now I know this, _uh_ , looks like,  _um_ , hobbling, so…thanks!”

He turned back and tried to make his feet do some actual dance moves, pain shooting up his leg in a sharp lance. Sunny sucked in a pained breath through his teeth, before trying to make it into a proper inhale as he launched into his song again.  _“Don’t worry, ‘bout a thing! ‘C-cause every little thing –“_

He chanced a look over his shoulder just in time to see Marianne, her features falling into vast relief, disappear back into the grass, the blades rippling in her wake. 

Sunny immediately slumped to the ground, mindlessly letting his body roll into his own clump of grass.  _“Is gonna be alright…”_  he finished morosely, letting his eyes sink closed with great weariness.

God, but that was a performance he had  _no_  intention of doing an encore of.

His ankle still throbbed, but the pain was now significantly dulled now that he was off of it. Still should probably put some ice on it, if he could find some. But for now, he was gonna take a well-deserved rest.

Sunny sighed to himself, letting his chest rise and fall slowly, and his eyes blearily opened to regard the blue sky, as bright and glorious and full of the promise of a turmoil free day as ever. 

He scowled at it half-heartedly.  _You sure played me, pal_.

But Sunny wasn’t one to hold grudges, and soon relief washed out anything else. God, but that had been  _close._  Now he just had to work at repressing the heck out of that memory. And then every little thing  _would_ be alright, he was sure.

But until then…

Sunny sure hoped the punch tonight would be  _extra_  strong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter left, folks!


	6. Plum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter is finally here! How fitting for the last day of 2015! 
> 
> Also, to clear up any confusion, we have it confirmed by the animators that Sugar Plum’s real name is actually Aura, just as we know the Fairy King’s real name is Dagda. I love that the animators for this movie hang out on Tumblr =)

**Chapter Six: Plum**  

Aura zipped through lichen-covered hollow logs, twirled around a few flourishing ferns, and generally whirled her merry way in and out of the moonlight that dappled the floor of the Forest that everyone had feared for oh-so-very long. To a being like herself, magic glowing across her skin in constellation she always carried, darkness had never been an issue.  _Just the sheer and utter boredom it invited…_

Nor need she fear any dangers it supposedly hid – goodness, but with the flick of her pinkie finger, any snarling beastie would run away from  _her!_

Yes, darkness and light were meaningless, especially when everything  _still_ carried that sweet crispness that flowed like water and rustled through the tops of trees like wind, the taste still so  _fresh_  even after a year.  _Freedom…!_

As long as one had room to fly and spread ones arms as far as they pleased, light or dark were simple chitter-chatter. With that in mind, Aura gave a mad little giggle and stretched her arms as she pin-wheeled through the air in a curling spiral of speed and exhilaration.  _Free free freeee!_   

The year had positively  _flown_  by, or so it seemed to Aura. She had been eager to leave the dark, enveloping canopy of the Forest, all too ready to feel the sun pass through her, flirt with the eddies of the wind after ages of being cooped up in stagnant dungeon air for _so_  long –

Not that she had forsaken the Forest  _entirely_. Beings like her could  _never_  be confined to one realm; never mind all that  _Two Kingdoms, Side By Side But Worlds_   _Apart_  mucky-muck. One of the most delicious aspects of freedom was  _choice_  and if one day she chose shadows, well then, the next day she could always choose sunshine –

The Sprite somersaulted through the air, giggling at how everything spun around in a mix of silver and shadows. Oh, what a  _treat_  to choose! She was savoring every moment that came to her, her joy bubbling upon her tongue like the sweetest fizz of the finest spirits, burbling through her like the very brook that wove throughout the whole Fairy Kingdom.

Some of the creatures of the Fields had been shocked to see the infamous Sugar Plum Fairy out and about, even afraid, but she had just trilled with laughter and continued weaving her way through the grasses, just like the bright little fish she saw beneath the streams’ surface. She had delighted in the ripples her spindly fingers caused when she touched the mirror-like water in greetingto them, making them dart away and her laugh. Oh, but to _feel_  again! To make things  _happen!_     

Aura sighed. Well, she wasn’t making  _one_  particular thing happen…

But there was no need to fret about that. Her rapture in her newfound freedom was enough of a buzz for her, no matter how much her magic pulsed and thrummed within her skin,  _try-make-weave-create-more-more-more-now-now-now,_ making sparks  _crackle_  between her fingertips…

Weaker sprites would have caved by now, but then  _they_  hadn’t had the taste of imprisonment to temper them. As much as she was happy to let giddy release and rapture rule, as much as a certain King had endlessly muttered dour comments about her fickle nature and capricious whims, Aura was no fool. Knowing she was  _free_  to create the Potion was satisfying enough; actually  _making_  it after gaining her freedom was like using goblin dung to ice a celebratory cake.

Although if someone  _approached_  her…

Aura hummed to herself before doing a swan dive deep into cool shadows, her smile bright and her eyes sly. Well, as long as she let the scaly curmudgeon  _know_  about such an offer…he would at least have a  _little_ warning…

Not that she bore Bog any ill will! Sprites simply didn’t  _have_  it in them to nurse grudges. Aura could feel the shift of the moon and the pull of the winds and the wheeling of the stars throughout her whole being. But the capacity for hatred and spite? Her heart wasn’t made for such dark and rotting roots.

Besides, her kind experienced feelings in flashes, affection and frustration and joy sparking and fizzling out as quickly as firecrackers. Nothing could  _truly_  grow in such shifting soil.

(Which didn’t make her Bad, Aura nodded to herself, idly back-stroking her way through the air. Nor did it make her Good. All it made her was  _Her_.)

Besides, it was  _Love_ that was her craft, the alchemy that made up her whole purpose. Each of her kind had chosen such a vocation, and Aura had never regretted hers. She might never have the bloom of Love grow in her heart, but that didn’t mean she  _couldn’t_  dedicate the span of her not inconsiderable life to helping it flourish. Though from what she had seen in both Kingdoms, there was no  _need_  of her little brew nowadays…

Love was in the air, and both Forest and Field were positively  _flourishing_ because of it.Aura had even spied some brambles of the Forest curling amongst the bright blossoms of the Fairy Kingdom earlier, the Border no longer bristling with guards as it had, once upon a time after one Fateful Day…

She now tapped her lip and smiled, still meandering through Forest, the shimmering glow of her body sliding across tree trunks to illuminate rough bark and lichen as she passed by. Everything was going  _quite_  well indeed. Forest and Field were now balanced instead of divided, she was no longer the captive of a certain dark and surly King, and _he_  was no longer captive to pain and misery and self-loathing.

All of which was in thanks to a certain Fairy Princess who had shattered the walls around his heart as surely as she had shattered that silly old skylight…

And  _this_  was the Fairy who would be Queen, who would soon take the throne in the Fairy Kingdom, where she would undoubtedly continue shattering traditions and rattling the very stars…

Aura’s smile blossomed, and she whirled once more through the air, the stars in her skin twinkling up at their brethren.  _Ooooh, but it was going to be a wonderful party!_

Not that  _she_  would be able to attend it, of course. The Fairy Kingdom had all sorts of fusty old rules about having only certain figures being in attendance to such ceremonies. And as she didn’t technically  _belong_  to either the Light Fields or the Dark Forest…

Aura wasn’t  _too_  terribly fussed – while she loved a good party, sprites swearing allegiances to one Kingdom or another  _never_  ended well. As long as she could give her congratulations to the feisty Queen To Be, she would be content. Thus her little dally through the Forest…

Aura passed a hand over her head, fingers fluffing the glowing strands of her hair –  _well, hair was a loose term_  – as she came to a stop in a glade, turning this way and that as trees swayed above her, dark and rustling in the warm, late Spring breeze. She hadn’t had any luck earlier with catching the Crown Princess in the Fields, but she  _would_  have thought that by  _now_  there would have been  _some_  sign –

A faint little noise, only just heard above the murmur of the trees, curled through the Forest and pulled at Aura’s ear, and she snapped her head back, her eyes wide. One heard snarls and the rasping slide of scales in the Forest, not  _giggles._

Especially not ones with a deliciously drowsy edge to them, and  _especially_ not ones that slid into moans…

The noise came again, louder, only now there was rougher, deeper noise joining it, and Aura felt a flame of curious excitement crackle through her.  _Stars and skies, **what**  could it  **be**?_  She quickly zipped closer to investigate, taking care to dim her glow to the same paleness of the moonlight.

It was coming from another little glade of trees, ancient and gnarled and strong, reaching vast and twisting branches up into the sky, a patchwork of bioluminescent fungi weaving up the rough and knotted trunks that were pockmarked with hollows. Plum came to one particularly weathered birch and wove her way down it, cocking her head for any further sounds.  _It had come from here, she was certain…_

And there was something _else,_ a certain scent in the air that was making the magic in her pulse and thrum and spark like a storm under her skin, something that plucked at her whole being like a finger upon a harp, sending shivery little melodies through her–

Something she simply could  _not_  identify –

_Bright as moonlight and potent as her Potion, ruffling and teasing at her senses. What on earth **was**  it –?_

A soft purr wove through the rich air, disrupting Aura’s thoughts and making her look down sharply at the very base of the tree, where the roots twined and tangled around a gaping hollow.  _A-ha!_

Aura nearly left a shimmering trail of magic in her wake as she sped closer in her excitement, before abruptly pulling up at the sound of an unmistakable voice.

“Tha’ help at all, Tough Girl?”

Aura’s breath left her in an airless gasp and her eyes boggled at the thickened, raggedly soft tones of the Bog King, but it was the answering soft sigh of laughter and voice that had her jaw dropping. “Y’know, I thought there was  _nothing_ that could beat a spar for getting rid of nerves, but…man, I am  _so_  glad I was wrong.”

It was lucky that the birch had a few little ledges of fungi climbing it. Aura promptly plopped down onto one, her amazement so great she was actually rendered speechless, a rare thing indeed.  _Oh my…_

But as quickly as the shock had crashed over her, delight was just as swift to follow.  _Oh my!_

The scent curled through the air again, and Aura spread her arms to it, inhaling it in a great, ecstatic gulp. _Love!_

Pure and wild and true and _real,_ tangible as moonlight and flooding every sparkling crevice of her soul, igniting every bit of her magic –

_Goodness, but imprisonment had made her rusty if it had taken her so long to identify **that** …!_

Aura’s smile stretched across her face, her giggle tickling her palms as she clapped her hands over her mouth lest they heard her. Oh, but this was too  _sweet!_

She quickly left her little ledge and crept down the trunk, her ears pricked as the conversation between the lovers continued.

“Ye sure ye’re alright? Ah…Ah know this was… _different_ –“

“I _love_  different,” Princess Marianne said empathetically, and there was a pause that was filled with a muffled groan that Aura biting down on more giggles.  _Oh, but she knows how to rattle your wings, doesn’t she, Bog?_

There was the slight smack of lips pulling away from a kiss before Princess Marianne continued on, her tone resolute as ever though her voice was just a touch breathless. “And I always love it when you show me more of the Forest.” Her voice, warm and sincere, got rather sly. “ _Especially_  if it ends with  _that.”_

Aura  _never_ would have thought she would ever hear such a warm huff of laughter from the old grouch, but  _oh_ , it made her heart glow to hear him now, so soft and shy. “So…tha’ was…Ah mean, havin’ this  _here_  was –?”

“We’ve already done it in my Fields, we were due for your Forest,” the Princess yawned, and there was a rustle of a swath of something being pulled closer. “We  _are_ equals, after all.”

“Indeed.” Bog’s voice was quiet and full of mirth, and there was the shift and rattle of scales, and Aura could picture him twining an arm around his Fairy Princess. “Though…technically, we  _were_  at the Border –” 

“On  _my_  side of the Border, almighty Bog King. Don’t you try to make seductions in old trees any less valid.” The Princess’s chuckle melted into a soft little sigh, and Aura  _finally_  made it to her destination. Just  _one_  little lookie-loo wouldn’t hurt –

She quickly peeped over the edge and immediately had to clap her hands over her mouth to stop her heart-felt moan of happiness from pouring out of her.

The hollow was spacious, moss climbing over every inch of each in a verdant and velvety sprawl, and a familiar scepter and sword leaned against the entrance. The ground of the cozy crevice dipped down like a little nest, and it was in the middle of this that the Bog King of the Dark Forest and Princess Marianne of the Fairy Kingdom lay, nestling into the plush moss and nuzzling into each others embrace.

A mess of dark leaves and torn up moss was heaped over them as limbs, scaly and soft, twined and tangled in unhurried caresses that spoke of a delicious afterglow more than the start of sating any ravenous passion. Aura eyed the mess of clothes that were strewn every which way and arched a brow, a knowing twist to her smile. _Impatient little butterfly, isn’t she, your majesty?_

The Crown Princess looked at her lover with lazy, contented curiosity. “Speaking of which…what  _is_  this place? It looks like it’s been used before…”

Bog’s talons toyed with the thicket that was her hair. “Just an old fort from my youth. I had a number of them throughout the Forest, but this one was a favorite to play in.”

The Fairy Princess’s eyes sparkled up at him, bright as amber and full of mischievous delight. “Mmm…so you decided to  _play_  in it again, huh?”  

At that, the King of the Goblins growled and bent his scaly head to her fair throat, his sharp nose gently nudging along the line of it, undoubtedly breathing in the same scent that was still rippling along Aura’s senses. He gave a low rumble before kissing along the slender column, his mouth soft and languid upon the delicate flesh, and Princess Marianne tipped her head back further, giving a gentle, throaty purr of encouragement as her eyes fluttered closed.

Aura was caught between a swoon and melting into a puddle of rapture, and settled for simply beaming.  _Oh, but they were **adorable** …!_

No danger of them catching sight of her, what with how lost they were in each other. Aura had no shame in seeing such sweet affections, but some creatures had  _such_  strange reactions to having others witness their tender moments. And goodness knows, she wasn’t keen to have the wrath of the Bog King aimed at her again –

There was a sudden shifting as the Princess shook off one of the leafy blankets to hook a leg over the hip of the King she had claimed as her own, her skin pure and pale in the moonlight, apparently intent on  _claiming_  him again.

Bog gave another low rumble at that, his claws trailing down her arms, and Aura was debating whether or not to duck back down when the young Queen To Be –  _really, she **was**  a young thing for all her fire, Aura forgot that at times, the ages of other creatures always tended to blur together once a Sprite passed their first hundredth _– laid her dark head upon his chest and pressed her palms there as well.  _Right above his heart_ , Aura observed as Bog stilled.

“Thank you,” the Fairy said softly, her already soft voice muffled as she spoke against his scales. “For this. For…for knowing what to do. I was just…I just couldn’t stick around. Everybody rushing around with last minute things to do before the ceremony –“

“The ceremony is two days away, that’s not last minute –“

“–And it just…it was too much like my wedding day.” There was a silence after that that was thick with one of those emotions that Aura recognized as being beyond her, an echo of pain marring the sweet and heady perfume of Love wafting through the air.

Princess Marianne continued, her fingers trailing along the seams of his scales. “So…thank you. I obviously needed this.”

“You talk as though I was doing you a favor,” Bog grumbled softly, carding long fingers through her hair, his gentle touch belying any trace of ire to his words. “Like this could ever be  _drudgery_  –”

Princess Marianne laughed, any shadows fleeing her face and her eyes shining warm as honey in the sun as she looked up at him. “Oh,  _god_ , of  _course_ , it’s all such a  _chore_  for the both of us –“

Bog’s grin was sharp, his eyes sly. “A royal duty, aye?”

“Strengthening relations between the Kingdoms.” Aura muffled her own chuckle as the Princess rolled back up to pin the Bog King beneath her, leaves and moss sliding off of her so that her wings flashed in the moonlight, iridescent and silvery. The look in Bog’s eyes was almost worshipful as he took in the sight of his lover haloed by the moon, and Aura gave a soft, girlish sigh. The Princess’s voice was both sly and loving as she continued on. “Adding a  _new_  level of intimacy to diplomacy.”

“Ah’ll nae object ta tha’.” Bog’s large hands easily spanned the Fairy’s thin waist, his thumbs stroking the line of her ribcage. “Nae when it’s with ye.”

Marianne cocked her head, her tone rich with amusement. “Oh yeah?”

“How could it jus’ be a duty when it’s with ye?” Bog said, seemingly to himself, and Marianne stilled. Aura wondered if the Princess’s heart was trembling at his tones, what with how his voice had dropped to a rough murmur, faint disbelief edging it. “Gods, this…this will  _never_  stop bein’…” The King stopped, apparently lost for words.

“An adventure?” Princess Marianne supplied softly, a rather shaky note to her voice, and Aura found that she was positively  _wriggling_  over the new note that had joined the scent that was perfuming the evening air.  _Happiness, joy, love all consuming and pure and wild and so very **real** – _

One large, rough hand reached up to stroke along the line of the Fairy Princess’s face, easily cradling her cheek, and the Bog King’s voice was as gentle as his touch. “Aye…jus’ tha’.”

The Princess tilted back her head to give a soft kiss to his palm, and then suddenly gave a laugh, soft and warm. “Y’know, I just realized…this is the last time we’ll do this when I’m a princess.” Soft, slender fingers twined with long, gnarled claws, and there was a deeply affectionate teasing to her voice. “You’ll have a Queen in your bed soon, your majesty –“

_“Ah look forward to it,”_  Bog promised, his voice a low and heated promise.

“That makes two of us,” Princess Marianne purred back, freeing one hand to toy with one of his ears, and Aura had to bite the inside of her cheek at how quickly the fearsome Bog King became such a shivery wreak with that one little gesture.  _Ooooh, anyone who knew how to disarm the fierce King so entirely would be a dangerous Queen_ … 

The young Fairy then cocked her head, her voice getting musing. “I wonder if it’s gonna make this any different? Me being Queen?” A soft note of vulnerability crept into her voice. “Everything  _else_  will be different…”

“Different is good,” Bog said firmly, pushing himself up so he could cradle her to him, and Princess Marianne willingly let her head drop to his shoulder, nuzzling her head into the crook between his scales and his neck. He stroked down her back, making her wings shiver slightly, and his voice was soft and warm with concern. “I won’t insult you by telling you not to worry, Tough Girl, but other than that…how are you feeling?”

Princess Marianne gave an exhale that was a both a laugh and a sigh. “ _Strange_. That’s the only word that seems to fit. I…I’ve prepared for this my whole life, and now… _here it is_ , just two days away. Everyone is so excited, and I guess that’s great when it’s not being overwhelming, but…there’s still a bunch of people who’re convinced that I’ll fail –“

“To hells with them,” Bog said, the bluntness of his words tempered with the gentle kiss he placed upon the crown of her head. “Have you ever cared what others thought of you before, Tough Girl?”

She sighed, short and rueful. “Once upon a time, before I realized what a waste it was –“

“That still applies. Don’t give the buggers any quarter, love. Best them and be your own ruler.”

The young Fairy raised her head to look at him, a serious, searching glint to her gaze. “You think I can?”

“I know it.” Claws once again wove through her hair, and Aura had never seen the King’s eyes ever look so  _blue_ , love and moonlight making them impossibly bright. “You were born to rule, Marianne. This ceremony is only a formality. You…you already  _are_  a Queen, Tough Girl, in all but title.”

Princess Marianne gave a silent but deep inhale at that, and Aura had to shake her head, her smile both wry and approving. For someone who seemed to be made up of scales and snarls and awkwardness, dear old Bog had a knack with finding  _just_  the right words for his Lady Love.

Then again, Love  _had_  worked stranger miracles…

Aura heard the smile in Princess Marianne’s voice as the Fairy ducked her head down, her head bumping against the Goblin’s sharp chin.  _“Flatterer –“_

_“Honest,”_  Bog retorted, his eyes crinkling with his smile, and he ducked his head down to meet her gaze. “Only that. Goblins have no patience for toadies or sycophants, I’ll be the first to call you out on any foolishness –“

Princess Marianne laughed, her head tipping back and her shoulders shaking. “God, I’m  _so_  lucky.”

Bog laughed as well, though his grin was wry and his shrug was self-deprecating. “Depends who you ask –“

“No, I mean it.” Princess Marianne’s face was still warm with affection, but a new seriousness was in her eyes as she let her hands cradle the sharp lines of his face. “Bog… _I’m so damn lucky to have you._  Things are gonna be different and strange and new, but…as long as I have  _you_ …I’ll be fine.”

Now it was Bog’s turn to take a silent, deep inhale, and Aura felt another spike in the scent wafting around her, and she took another deep inhale, dizzied with bliss. No wonder the primroses were blooming so tall and proud nowadays if  _this_  was what was rustling through their petals…

The Princess continued on, tapping a finger at her lip in a faux-pondering manner. “And as for having a Queen in your bed now instead of a Princess –“

“Queen or Princess, as long as it’s  _you,”_  Bog murmured, reaching for her.

She caught his hand and gave him a slow, dangerous smile, and oh,  _now_  the scent was getting  _very_  potent, simmering and smoldering and rippling all around the grove – 

“I was going to say, almighty Bog King, that a Queen might prove to be a bit more bossy than a Princess,” the Fairy continued on, her voice dropping back to a purr. “More… _demanding_. I hope you can handle that –“

“A King has his own demands, Tough Girl.” There was a sudden flash of ragged wings catching the moonlight, shimmering like rainbows, and the Fairy Princess gave a soft little squeal as she was rolled onto her back. Bog carefully arranged her wings and gave her a sharp smile, casting her in shadow as he loomed over her. “I certainly hope this Queen  _enjoys_  being challenged –”

_“She’ll love it,”_  Princess Marianne murmured back, her eyes molten and her voice deliciously dark with intent, and  _oh_ , what a Queen the Fields would have in  _her_ , Light and Dark combined in such beautiful potency. “But for now, this  _Princess_  might get a head-start on that –“ 

_“An’ ta think Ah used ta hate princesses,”_  Bog’s murmur was almost a growl before he lowered his head to his lover’s chest. Aura heard the rasp of a tongue on flesh before the Crown Princess of the Light Fields began moaning a wild song of want, arching and curling to bring him closer, the bright fire of her eyes sinking closed in rapturous surrender. Apparently a challenge could wait…   

The perfume was getting nigh smothering now, and Aura felt now was as good as any time to depart while her head was still somewhat clear. Besides, she could always give her congratulations to the Princess at a later date…

She drifted up and away from the hollow, smiling fondly as she looked up at the moon. She had craved the sun while kept under lock and key, but the moon had always been wonderful company, bathing both primroses and lovers alike in her gentle light…

_Dark and Light, Shadow and Sun, Goblin and Fairy, King and Soon To Be Queen, each balancing the other._   _Everything was as it should be._

The moon seemed to smile back at her, silver and sweet, and Aura gave a bright little laugh before giving a flip and taking off, merrily humming her favorite tune as she wove her way through the trees, letting her light glow bright once more.

A breathy sigh came to an abrupt halt, and the Princess sounded alarmed. “Bog, did you hear that?”

Aura ducked behind a branch and bit her lip as the King replied, his voice ragged. “Ah heard _ye,_ Tough Girl.”

“I thought I saw something too, it was like a flash –“

“Probably th’ moonlight on somethin’. It  _is_ perfect righ’ now.” Aura nearly spun in her glee, holding back a snigger. Goodness, but the two  _must_  have been in a proper state if the normally wary King was so quick to dismiss any potential trouble.

Bog’s voice then thickened to a rough, heated murmur.  _“Much like ye.”_

Aura peeked over her branch just in time to see Princess Marianne positively melt, her sigh heartfelt and her eyes and words fathomless with love.  _“God, you absolute freaking dork…”_

The two sank back to the moss and into their embrace, and Aura spared them one last fond look and contented sigh before soaring away.  _Leave the lovers to the moonlight. It’s how it’s meant to be._

Joy and magic thrummed through her with new intensity now that she wasn’t holding back her light, both of them burbling up in her chest in an irrepressible fountain of feeling, needing some sort of release. Aura readily gave in, crooning her song once more, the moon and shadows and stars her audience.  

_“Once you get it, you’re in an awful fix…‘Cause after you’ve had it, ya never wanna… quit…”_


	7. BONUS CHAPTER!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I lied about Chapter Six being the last chapter XD
> 
> Consider this my extremely silly First Day of the New Year's Gift to you - Happy 2016!

**Bonus Chapter!  **

The sun shone brightly overhead, and Roland tossed his hair in a way he knew made the golden locks  _gleam_ , and he winked up at the brilliantly blue sky. “Thanks for backup, sweetheart.”

The sun merely continued to blaze down on him, and Roland continued to make his way down along the Border, his steps jaunty. There was a right hubbub going on in the Fairy Kingdom right now, what with Marianne getting crowned, but he had his head on other matters. Mainly, finding his sweet little Itch.

The dear little thing had taken to scampering off whenever she saw him now, but Roland knew  _all_  about ladies playing hard to get. He hadn’t gotten many fights from Fairy maidens in the past what with his looks, but the ones who decided to be cute and give him a tussle always ended up melting sure as a snowdrop in the sun.

Marianne had been the only one to stay strong against his charms, which Roland had blamed on her holding onto that one tiny little indiscretion before he had been confronted with the fact that his Buttercup’s tastes ran far more  _strangely_  than he ever would have guessed.

He shuddered at the memory of that one night, remembering the grotesque face and form of that scaly backed monstrosity and his thunderstruck realization that Marianne had been entertaining some severely deluded affections for that beast. Sure, he was a King,  _but a Goblin one!_

Roland was used to being the exception to the rules what with his golden charm and looks – and now it made only  _sense_  that sweet little Itch was  _his_ sinfully sweet exception to the usual grotesqueness of goblins.  

Of course, that was if dear Itch  _was_  even a Goblin at all. She had never clarified that point…

Though to be fair, it  _was_  a touch difficult to talk around his tongue –

And now she was  _running_  from him, her wings buzzing in what some silly folks had called  _alarm_  whenever he managed to find her –

He reckoned his best chances were by the Border. Usually it was a quiet little area, but now there was a faint muffle and scuffle going on, growls and grunts and all sorts of noise coming from just beyond the edge.  _Probably two filthy goblins fighting over some mold, he should probably take care of ‘em –_

Roland paused in front of a puddle of rainwater right under the primroses and struck a pose, running a hand through his curls and rubbing his tongue at his teeth before he gave his patented smile. Find Itch, slay some goblins - it would all be fine. He simply had to visualize it. He was Roland, after all, and he always got what he was after –

There was a sharp whistling sound, and Roland turned away from the glory of his reflection to look around curiously. “Itch? Darlin’ bug, is that y –?”

The scepter poleaxed him straight to the skull with a mighty  _ **THUNK**_ , and Roland collapsed to the dirt in a clatter of gleaming armor, his head falling straight into the mud surrounding the puddle with a messy  _glorp_.

He lay there, insensible to the world, as a faintly irritated voice came from the Forest. “You didn’t have to bloody well  _chuck_  it, Tough Girl.”

Marianne’s head popped up over the edge of the Border to look around, her hair mussed and her lips slightly swollen. “Don’t worry, it can’t have gone too far. I’m more worried about what it might have hit, I  _definitely_  heard some kind of impact –“

“Whatever it was, it sounded hollow,” Bog said dismissively. “I wouldn’t be concerned with that.”

Marianne looked back at him to arch a brow at him, sprawled out on the ground and looking up at her with such hungry blue eyes that she had to smirk. “Oh yeah? And what  _should_  I be concerned with, almighty Bog King?”

Bog’s fangs bared themselves at her. “Gettin’ back here an’ gettin’ those boots off,  _Tough Girl.”_

Marianne hummed and fluttered back down to him, her smile sly and her eyes as hungry as his. “Give me a hand then,  _your majesty.”_

Any further conversation was lost to playful growls and soft purrs, and it was to this that Roland gradually came to, shaking his now sodden and muddy head and squinting dazedly at the world around him. He then groaned in pain, his bright green gaze positively cross-eyed in wretched agony, the bright light of the sun and the sky as good as a taunt what with how his head  _ached_.

After a few weak attempts, he finally managed to raise himself upon his elbows, torn between whimpering and utter bewilderment. What on  _earth_ had that been –?

A boot then came sailing over the Border in a mighty arc and hit Roland’s nose with a hearty  _ **THWACK**_ , making him fall back to the mud as he once again blacked out.

The sun continued to beam down upon him cheerfully, contentment warming her rays.  _That’s what you get for calling me sweetheart._


End file.
